


Folsom Prison Blues

by AngelsAvengeMe



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Genre: Brotherly Love, Gen, Hospitals, Injury, Prison
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 09:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelsAvengeMe/pseuds/AngelsAvengeMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was going to get them out of there, no matter if it killed him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Formulating

It had been seven days since they’d been transferred to the Hoag.   
   
Seven days since their da had died.  
   
Seven days since Romeo had been put in a medically induced coma and Murphy and himself had been stitched and wrapped.   
   
All it had taken was mere minutes seven days ago and nothing would ever be the same again.   
   
It wasn’t any easier -- life. He didn’t think it ever would be again. It was silly really. They had gone 27 years without seeing their da and had gotten by. They’d had their ma and Rocco back then. They’d had the bar and Doc and their shitty apartment with an equally shitty job. But, no matter how bad, it was their nicely constructed world of shit and it was just fine by him. At least, that was until their da had literally entered their lives with a hale of bullets and a prayer.   
   
He had changed everything. It made Connor wonder what life would’ve been like if their da had been in it from the beginning. Would their ma have stayed an angry drunk who insisted on them learning languages, guns and religion? Maybe they would have been a happy little family back in Ireland, going to church every Sunday and praying before a meal. He’d probably end up as a priest, while Murph did God knows what -- always by his side. Maybe they would’ve never ended up in Boston, getting to know Rocco, Doc and all the others. Fuck, just thinking about all the possibilities made his head spin like it’d been St. Paddy’s day the night before.   
   
The thought of a different life made him squeeze his eyelids tight. He shifted in his rickety hospital bed trying to find comfort but found none. The sheets were itchy and hardly comforting from the cold air that seeped in through the walls. He hated ‘what ifs.’ All they did was fuck with your mind and keep you loopin’. He’d learnt a long time ago that it came to no good. Normally when he got like this, Murph would cuff him on the back of the head and whisper something in his ear to make him forget the never ending well that his thoughts became. But Murph was asleep, his eyes moving rapidly beneath his eyelids as he was locked in a far away dream world. So he let him sleep for even if it wasn’t real, hopefully it was a better place then this.   
   
His breath shuddered before he quickly put a hand over his mouth. He could feel his throat constrict and burn as tears pricked at the corner of his eyes. He promised himself he wouldn’t cry over this: their situation, their da. He wasn’t going to let his thoughts linger like this. He needed to be strong, now more than ever. For Murph and Romeo. So he squeezed his hand tighter over his mouth and rapidly blinked to try to calm himself down. He needed to relax, he could tell that his roller coaster of emotions was effecting Murphy, even in sleep. His brother had began to twitch and shift around in his bed. Soft words and moans of upset were passing through his lips as he seemed to struggle with some unknown demon in his dreams.   
   
Whenever one of them had been upset, the other knew almost immediately. He couldn’t describe how, but it’d been that way since birth. If Murph was upset, he was upset. If he was in pain, so was Murph. When they had first met, Rocco had deemed it ‘that creepy twin thing,’ and would constantly ask them questions about it until he was blue in the face. Connor had happily obliged him of course, telling grand tales of being a twin while taking any opportunity to embarrass Murph while he did it. He was normally grateful that he was a twin. Having someone who understood you so completely; someone you could share anything with and they’d always be there for you was indescribable. But, like any human, he too needed space to figure out his own thoughts and emotions, and with Murph, intentionally or not, reacting to what he was feeling made it hard to do that. He didn’t need him to wake up now. No, what he needed was a drink and a cigarette. He needed time. He needed to calm the fuck down. He needed to take care of Murph and Romeo. He needed a fucking plan.   
   
He needed too much and it was killing him.   
   
He took a deep breath, willing himself to relax. He couldn’t figure everything out if he was silently losing it inside. He needed to calm down and think of a foolproof plan this time. One that could get the three of them out of here alive before they got transferred out of the medical ward. He’d been thinking of ways to get out since the first night they’d spent there. Romeo had just finished surgery and Murphy and himself had been stitched up, sore as hell and still grieving. Murph hadn’t been able to sleep and neither had he, so they had laid on their hospital beds, staring at the ceiling, quietly talking to each other in Gaelic of plans on how to get out. It felt like they had talked about every possibility. Unfortunately, the plan either ended with leaving Romeo behind, contracting outside help, or just not working at all.   
   
The annoying part of this all was that they hit the fuckin’ mother-load here; no slim pickings of criminals in a jail, that’s for sure. But he couldn’t take the risk of what that meant. Many of the guys here would have a grudge against them, taking any opportunity they had to get back at them for killing one of their worthless ‘cousins.’ And as much as he loved a good fight, he knew this was one that he and Murph couldn’t win, not on their own at least.  
   
He hit the mattress in frustration, his handcuffs clanking against the bed rail in protest. There was no fucking way they were going to be able to successfully get out. He needed to do right by Murph and Romeo. It had been his idea to come to Boston and it had been his idea to follow their da to the ends of the Earth, all while including Romeo into their harebrained schemes. All the bad things, they had been his fault. He was supposed to look out for Murph, that’s what his ma had told him from the beginning, not that he ever needed her to. It was something instinctual, looking after Murphy. Hell, Murph looked after him just as much if he really thought about it. They would do anything for each other and he knew that, he really did. But even though their Ma had never told them who was older, he’d always felt it was him and he took that to heart. He would rather die than see his brother suffer and willow away, and if death was what it was going to take to get Murph and Romeo out, then death he would accept. 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

He woke with a start. Something had startled him out off a deep sleep causing him to jolt up. He doubled over, grabbing his side as a sharp pain came from his wounded stomach and felt his breath leave him. Within seconds he felt cool, comforting hands on both of his shoulders. Murphy. He was whispering nonsensical words into his ear, trying to get him to unfurl.   
   
“I’m fine. It’s fine, just lost me breath for a second,” he gasped.  
   
He felt Murphy shift so he was sitting beside him, an arm curled protectively around his shoulders, minding his wounds. He could hear Murphy say something rather rude, this time not to him but someone else who had moved into his line of blurry vision.    
   
“-on’t you fuck off? We’ve done nothin’ to ya.”  
   
“Y’all need to be awake for the Doctor. S’not my fault he wasn’t up, maybe next time you’ll know better.”   
   
Blinking to clear his eyes of sleep, Connor looked up to view the other speaker. He was met with the sight of a rather burly looking guard who had to have been a good four inches taller than them and about twice the width.  
   
“Why don’t you have some fuckin’ common decency next time and-.”  
   
“It’s fine Murph, really.” Murphy darted his eyes toward him and searched his face. Connor dipped his chin -- let it be. Murphy quickly looked back to the guard, his eyes watching his every move.   
   
The guard just crossed his arms and leaned against the wall beside the door a smirk gracing his hard features. Not even a minute later, a woman strutted into the room. She reminded him of a much older, shorter version of the lesbian who’d kicked him between the legs at the meat packing plant. At this thought, he felt himself involuntarily close his legs together, earning a quiet chuckle from his brother.  
   
“Where’s the other doc?” he asked. The doctor that had treated them for the past few days had been a no nonsense juice head who had enjoyed being brutal as possible when fixing them up. It was a wonder who made it through school these days.  
   
The doctor walked to Romeo’s bed and picked up his chart. “Got shanked while trying to break up a fight yesterday.” Her voice had a rough edge to it, as if she’d drunken one too many whiskeys in her time.   
   
She frowned at the chart while making some notes before setting it back down. “Tried to take on a man twice his size and lost, never a smart thing if you ask me.” He looked to Murph and felt that his face probably had the same expression -- bemusement. Twice the size of the old doc? The man musta been a giant.  
   
“Ya wouldn’t happen to be related to a Rozengurtle would ya?” The doctor gave him a quizzical look before walking over to them and picking up his chart. “Big, mean lesbian lady. Bit of a misandrist?”  
   
“Do I look German to you?” She made a few notes before walking over to stand in front of them. Connor had always thought it was funny how two people, who weren’t even related, could look so alike, yet no one could guess that he and his brother were twins.   
   
“S’it lookin’ good doc?” asked Connor, wrapping his arm around his brother’s waist. The doctor looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.   
   
“You got lucky, according to the chart. Very little internal damage. You’re gonna have to be careful not to over exert yourself or you won’t be feeling like it. Now that you mention it....” The doctor pulled out a thermometre, causing him to twitch away as she held it toward his ear. She gave him a look then carefully put it in his ear until it beeped.   
   
“Hmmm, temps normal. You been running around or something? You look a little pale.” She didn’t wait for a response before going to Murphy’s bed and shuffling through his papers.   
   
“Uh, look Doctor...?”   
   
“Doctor Mackie. You can call me Mack if you’d like, but only if you’re good.” She shot them a rather forced smile and a wink.  
   
“Uh yeah. Look, don’t take this as a way of rushin’ ya, but how long do ya think it’ll be ‘till we’re outta here?” He could feel Murph’s arm stiffen around his shoulders. Mack looked at them for several seconds, her mouth pursed as she seemed to be thinking over his question. She shot a quick look to the guard standing at the door; he was still leaned against the wall, picking at his nails.   
   
She looked back at the twins, before pulling the curtain around the bed to hide them from view. They looked at her in confusion; she just put a finger to lips in a shushing motion and disappeared around the curtain. Connor looked to Murph who just shrugged.   
   
“What’s going on?” they heard the guard ask, his keys jingling as he pushed himself off the wall.   
   
“I’ve got to do a more ‘private’ examination if you must know. I’m sure you’d rather not see what these boys are packing, if you know what I mean.”   
   
The boys snickered but didn’t say anything as the guard spluttered a response. The doc came around and loudly announced that they need to ‘strip so she could check everything from their wounds to their dicks as there was no sense in sending them out into the prison just to come back a day later from some sort of fungus.’   
   
Murphy, at least, had the decency to blush.  
   
The doc sat on the bed and leaned in close to them and whispered: “if it wasn’t obvious, I don’t need you to strip, though an old lady wouldn’t mind the view, you know what I’m saying?” She put their charts down next to her and sighed. “Look, you guys are the Saints. You guys made fucking grown men piss their pants at the sight of you. Hell, you cleaned up the place for the better if you ask me, but I can’t just extended your stay here to keep you safe because I think you guys did the world a service. People will start snooping around, wondering just what the hell’s going on. I mean, I’ll do what I can, but it’s looking like you’re gonna get outta here in a week tops. Your friend there... not too sure about him. His vitals are stable but he’s in a medically induced coma for a reason. His injuries are serious. So unless he makes some kinda miraculous recovery in the next day or two, he’ll be here a while.” She grabbed one of the charts and looked it over.    
   
Shit.   
   
A week. They had to have the perfect plan in seven days time. One that allowed for all three of them to get out alive and in one piece. The doc seemed to be sympathetic to their cause, but that didn’t mean she could be trusted to help. No, he needed outside help from the ones that’d helped them before. Duffy, Dolly and Doc were their only connection to the outside world anymore. Even though they’d saved their asses before, didn’t mean they’d back them up now, especially with something as serious as this. Something that could disgrace them and get them thrown in jail too. No. He would keep them from the same fate even if he had to stay and rot here for the rest of his life.   
   
“So this limpet is Murphy?” she asked, pointing her pen directly at his brother.  
   
“Yep, that’d be my brother,” he said with a snicker as he ruffled Murphy’s hair rather forcefully causing Murphy to try to push Connor’s hand away from his head. The doctor just shook her head in wonderment.  
   
“Hey, you guys actually are two different people. Couldn’t say I saw that one coming. Thought the other doctor must’ve stitched you two at the hip or something.”   
   
“Wouldn’t cha know it, we’ve been told that many a time before,” he said as he put his arm around his brother’s neck and pulled him close. Murphy huffed but said nothing about it.   
   
The doctor just rolled her eyes and looked back at the chart. She quickly read through, making markings as she went before she flipped the page and stopped completely, a look of annoyance flashing across her face. “I’m assuming you’re aware you have aplastic anemia?”  
   
He felt Murphy still. His anemia had always been a sensitive issue, and always would be. He’d hated seeming weaker and dependent on others, something he’d made sure Connor was aware of any chance he got. That’s why, whenever the opportunity arose, like when they’d fought the Russians in the bar, Connor had made sure Murph finished the guy by himself. It was a great confidence booster for Murphy to know he could do things any other man could do, even with a potential ‘handicap.’ Still, it worried him and he’d never admit it to any living soul, especially Murph, but the thought of something having such control over his brother’s life, beside himself, was frightening.  
   
“Getting shot up certainly doesn’t help your case. You know you could’ve bled out. And now we have to be on watch for possible infection for a while.” The doctor pinched the bridge of her nose. “How long’s it been since you’ve taken your meds? I mean, before we started you up again?”  
   
“Not since this whole shit storm began. Why?”  
   
“It says on your chart that there was only trace amounts of immunosuppressants in your system when you were brought in. You should thank your lucky stars that the attending physician did a blood test and scoured your stuff for pill bottles and realized the problem before it got too outta hand, cuz your medical chart is sure non-existent before your stay here.” She studied their faces, as she seemed to be working something out in her head.  “We’re going to have to do a blood test once a week until you’re healed up to make sure your blood cell and platelet counts are up. Once you’re released from this ward, you’re going to have daily visits here to get your medication.”  
   
“-,” Murphy was promptly cut off as Mack stood up and drew the curtain back with a sharp snap and walked to the guard. Murph looked back to him. Something that they’ve always been good at, that people always took for granted because they weren’t identical, was the fact that they could silently communicate with one another. Just one look could tell the other all they needed to know. And right now, he could tell Murph was just as confused as he was about what was going on. One minute the doc had been practically fawning over them, the next, she’s chastising them like they were some kind of naughty schoolboys and the next? She’s fraternizing with the enemy.  
   
Once Mack and guard were done talking the approached the twins, the guard pulling something out of his pocket as he did so.   
   
“I don’t need no trouble. Get back to your own bed,” the guard growled at Murphy. Murphy looked at him, giving him an infamous glare before he slowly got up, squeezing Connor’s shoulder, and hobbled over to his own bed, his eyes never leaving the guard.   
   
“There’s nothing to worry about boys,” said Mack. “It’s just that now that you’re more healed and able to walk around,” her eyes darted to Murphy, “we need to make sure you’re properly identified and all that. It’s procedure.” The guard opened his hand to reveal two plastic bracelets, similar to a hospital’s, but bigger. The guard walked to Murphy first, the bracelet held flat out so he could put it on.   
   
“Don’t be a piss-head, hold out your wrist. Unless you’d rather me do it for you?” His eyes never once leaving the guard’s, Murphy held out his wrist as if he wanted the man to kiss his hand. A smirk spread across his lips as the guard’s scowl deepened.   
   
“Think you’re funny, boy? We’ll see who’s laughing in a couple of days.” He then jerked Murphy’s wrist closer to him and wrapped a violet bracelet around it and clicked the metal fastener into place. He sneered at Murphy one last time before he turned around and tightened a white wristband on him. The guard took one last look at them before he stalked back to his post by the door. Connor inspected his new ‘jewelry.’ It had a small picture of him on it and what he assumed was his prison number along with a barcode and his name. He tugged at it to see if he could get more circulation back into his hand.   
   
“I wouldn’t bother trying to get it off, it’s tamper proof. Made outta plastic and laminate stuff. The only way you’ll be getting that off is if you’re let outta here or you cut your hand off.” informed the doctor as she set their charts back into their proper places.   
   
“Why’s mine a different colour?” asked Murphy as he inspected his own bracelet.   
   
“Cuz of your anemia. Lets the staff know what’s wrong with ya so they know what to do if something goes wrong.” Murphy scowled but said nothing.   
   
“Is that normal? The different colours, I mean?” he asked. If Murphy was one of the only ones with a coloured bracelet, people would start to ask questions, something they both did not need.   
   
“Yep. The colours all represent different things, but not always the same thing.” Seeing their confusion, she sighed. “It’s like, if you go out there,” she said as she pointed out into the prison yard. “You may find a few other guys out there with purple bracelets like yours Murphy, but that doesn’t mean they have aplastic anemia, hell, it doesn’t even have to mean they have any type of anemia at all. All that colour represents is that you have a blood problem. If a staff member has to assist you right away, they’ll have to look at the numbers in the top corner, across from your prison number, to get a more accurate reading of what the real problem may be.”   
   
Connor looked at his bracelet once more. He had numbers across from his prison ID too. He wondered if they meant anything, or if they just stated he was fine.   
   
“So it says I’m some kind of sickly child who needs lookin’ after then?” Connor knew that tone. It was the kind that signified he was about to start something if the next thing to happen wasn’t to his liking. He shot Murphy a look and found his brother staring right back at him. No. Not at him, his bracelet.   
   
“What does his mean? Nothing, right?” His voice was so quiet, Connor has almost missed what he had said. Murphy quickly looked down, away from his and the doctor’s prying eyes.   
   
Mack let out a deep breath from her nose and, with the soothing tones of someone who’d done this a thousand times, said: “feeling sorry for yourself ain’t gonna help you. So, I suggest you buck up here and get over it, cuz yeah, you’re right, your brother’s bracelet says he’s fine and yours doesn’t. I guess some just draw the short end of the stick, if you know what I mean.”   
   
The doctor stood beside them for a moment longer before she shook her head.   
   
“I’m leaving. I’ll be back at eight to tuck you in, so make sure you’re up.” And with that the doctor left the room leaving two very bemused brothers.  
   
“She’s fuckin’ weird,” they said in unison. They looked at each other one last time, before they carefully laid back in bed. Connor looked to the ceiling as if it held the answer to all his problems, while Murphy stared at his new bracelet like it was some kind of gum stuck to his brand new shoe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new inmate enters their lives and leaves one hell of an impression.

“Hey Connor?”

Connor looked to Murphy. His brother was biting his lip, and his eyes down cast. It was weird seeing his brother act, well, shy. Especially around him. It didn’t sit well in his stomach. 

 

His brother’s eyes met his for a split second before they looked down again. Connor twisted around on his bed so his feet were hanging off the side. He swung his feet back and forth like a child, his big toes dragging slightly on the ground, before he spoke. 

 

“Yeah Murph?”

 

His brother seemed to hunker down and build his will.

 

“ _Are you planning something?_ ” his brother asked in Gaelic, looking to the guard in the far corner of the room. 

 

Connor tilted his head and looked to his brother. He was looking pale — as usual — but even more so this time. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed that Murphy wasn’t taking his medication. He should’ve been more attentive no matter how bad it got. Made sure that his brother took each and every damn pill he was meant to. One thing was for sure though, his brother was getting better at hiding his sickness from him and he didn’t like it one bit. 

 

He sighed and couldn’t believe this was his life now. His ma had always said they would end up in jail one day. Not that he ever believed her. But now he never thought he’d have to worry about all the stuff he was worrying about now. Like how to escape from a prison, get his unconscious friend to wake up and protect himself and his brother from bigger, stronger, angrier men who’d like nothing better than to take them apart slowly. All without any backup. 

 

“No.” It wasn’t a lie, not really. He wasn’t actively  _planning_  anything. He was just thinking. There was a big difference. 

 

Murphy’s eyes squinted and his lips pursed. He obviously didn’t buy the answer. 

 

“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me.” 

 

“I aint,” gritted Connor. He couldn’t let Murphy in on his thinking. He needed his own mind to sort things out first. Needed to formulate a plan and start actively putting things together. The last thing he needed was for any of them to get their hopes up. Not when so much was at stake. 

 

“Ya are.” 

 

“I told ya I’m not.” Connor’s eyes narrowed. He needed Murph to drop it. 

 

“Why’re you lying to me?” his brother hissed. 

 

He leaned in closer to his brother and said under his breath: “I ain’t planning nothing so drop it.”

 

“Fine.” His brother snapped and rolled over so his naked back was to Connor, his tattoos stark against his pale skin. 

 

Connor rolled his eyes and scooted back on the bed. Normally his brother would put a bigger fight than that. Sometimes even reverting to physical violence to try to get what ever he needed out of him, but not this time. No. It must’ve been a testament to how bad his brother was feeling if all he did was poke him a little. 

 

“Need some Midol?” His brother reached a hand up and flipped him the bird. Connor just chuckled. 

 

They lay in silence until Murphy’s breaths evened out and he fell asleep. Looking over at Murphy from the corner of his eye, he made sure his brother was really sleeping and not pretending. It was hard to tell without seeing his face. 

 

“Murph?” 

 

He waited for a response but none came. Carefully, he got up and made his way to Romeo’s bed and kneeled beside it. He rested his elbows next to Romeo’s arm on the bed and put himself in position and he did what he did best: prayed. 

* * *

 

He didn’t know how long he’d been praying when the door opened. A guard walked in, behind him one of the nurses was pushing a gurney in with a groaning man. The guard stopped at the door, his gun held tightly in his hands, while the nurse pushed the gurney into a position opposite from Connor’s bed. The man was clutching at his stomach with his one free hand, saying something about how he was gonna kill a guy named Julio. The nurse wrote some notes, attached a chart to the man’s bed then seemed to finally notice that he wasn’t in his own.

 

“What are you doing out of bed, Mr. MacManus?” The nurse sounded nervous. She looked to the guard who quickly stood straight, his eyes going straight for Murphy’s bed first then to Connor. For some reason that annoyed him. Was his brother supposed to be the more dangerous one of the two of them? 

 

“Get back in bed MacManus,” barked the guard. Connor scowled at him but did what he said anyway. The guard glared at him the whole time it took him to sit back in bed, and he glared right back. He wasn’t going to show the man any fear. That’s the type of shit that gets you killed in a place like this. 

 

The nurse flashed the guard a quick smile and left.

 

The new man’s groans were getting louder and more profane as he twisted around on his bed. It was starting to grate on his nerves. He was never one that could stand to hear people whine about their problems, physical or not. 

 

“Why don’t you just shut the fuck up, man? We all got problems here, but you don’t hear us whinging about it.” 

 

A weak ‘fuck you’ was thrown back at him as the man curled in on himself. 

 

Connor closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He could feel a major headache building. He got so caught up in it, he didn’t notice the guard leave or how quiet it got. 

 

“Hey… psst, hey, man.”

 

This got his attention fast. The man was now sitting up right, hunched forward slightly, looking right at him. 

 

“Wha’?” 

 

“You two are the Saints, right? Those tough mudder-fuckers who take out those big time criminals?” 

 

“What’s it to ya?” The last thing he needed was some freakin’ guy with a grudge since they ended up killing his twice removed cousin on his no-good dad’s side. 

 

He gave the guy a good once-over, as if he could visibly see the trap this guy was probably setting up. He looked like every other lowly criminal: shaved-head, tattoos, the woe is me attitude. This guy didn’t look anything special. So why did he get the feeling that there was more to him then what meets the eye? 

 

“Nothin, I’m just a big fan, that’s all.” The man sent him a gapped tooth smile. 

 

“You’re in prison,” as if it explained everything. 

 

“So are you,” retorted the man. 

 

“We kill guys like you.” Connor couldn’t wrap his head around a convict being a fan of theirs. This had to be some kind of gimmick.

 

“Well, I’m innocent  _so_ , not really.” The guy leaned back in bed, relaxing the back of his head in the palms of his hands. 

 

“If you’re innocent, what’re doing here?” 

 

The man shot him one hell of smile and said, “I had a shitty lawyer. Couldn’t afford much on my salary. Made sure he was Jewish and everything, but I still lost.” The man shrugged his shoulders, still smiling.

 

Connor felt his left eye twitch in annoyance, so he laid back against the mattress and closed his eyes. He put his hand over his eyes, trying to block out the light. He could feel his headache tenfold and grimaced. Where were the nurses when you needed them? 

 

“You okay, dude?” asked the man across from him. 

 

“Sound as an Irish pound.” 

 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sound that of Romeo’s breathing machine and Murphy’s soft snores. It was almost lulling him to sleep, when the new inmate cleared his throat — loudly.

 

Connor huffed a breath and moved his hand away from his eyes and slowly opened them. He immediately squinted his eyes, trying to block the sunlight. The man cleared his throat again. 

 

“Ya need a cough drop?” asked Connor, now thoroughly annoyed. 

 

He heard the man chuckle. “Nawh man, I just wanted to know, you gotta plan? I mean, you must.”

 

Connor narrowed his eyes. So this was the guy’s game? He wanted in on their escape plan. Well tough shit. There was no way he was adding one more — especially a criminal — to their plan. It’d be hard enough with the three of them. Plus, this man could be some sort of trap — a snitch or inside man. He couldn’t trust anyone in this prison, not even Murphy yet, with the plan he was cooking up. If anyone were to catch on, they’d all be screwed; separated and stuck in solitary confinement until they died old men. There was no way in hell he was going to let that happen. Even if it killed him, he would make sure Murphy and Romeo got to live out their lives as free men. 

 

He sat up and looked at him again. The man was staring at him hopefully, like he had the key to some amazing treasure. 

 

“Nope, no plan.” 

 

The man’s face fell. Then, with a knowing look-

 

“There’s no way you don’t have a plan. You wouldn’t let your brother rot in jail for the rest of his life. You never know what could happen.” The man smirked at him and crossed his arms in triumph. 

 

Connor’s head spun. Did this guy really just threaten him with Murphy this early in the game? He didn’t even know the guy’s name! 

 

“What are ya playin’ at?” 

 

“Nothing. All I’m saying is, let me in on your plan, or your life’s gonna take an interesting turn. Or maybe… I should say Murphy’s will?” The man cocked his head to the side and smirked at Connor. 

 

Connor was out of bed so fast and at the other guy’s it was like he was a blur. He had the guy by the front of the t-shirt and was shaking him hard. The man looked shocked, his hands digging into Connor’s wrist until his knuckles went white.

 

“You  _ever_  threaten me brother again and I’ll have your ass on a platter, got it?” 

 

Before the man had a chance to answer. Connor felt hands grabbing the back of his shirt tugging him hard. He went flying to the floor, not expecting such strength. Landing on his bad side, his breath getting knocked out of him, he immediately curled in on himself and gritted his teeth in agony. 

 

Soon, there were hands on his face and on his good shoulder, trying to soothe him. He would know those hands anywhere. They were Murphy’s. He managed to squeeze out a ‘what happened’ before he felt himself being dragged up into a standing position which made everything go sideways. He could hear people screaming back and forth in the background, but he couldn’t make anything out. 

 

He soon found himself in his bed and felt the cool metal of handcuffs being put on his wrist. The yelling was still going on, but was slowly getting clearer to him. They were talking about him. Someone was asking if he was ‘okay’ and the other saying ‘it wasn’t his fault.’ He had no idea what was going on. All he knew was that his side hurt something fierce. 

 

Suddenly, hands grabbed the sides of his face and a voice told him to open his eyes. He hasn’t even realized he’d closed them, but he opened them anyway and looked right at the face of Doctor Mackie. 

 

“-Breathe! I need you to breathe, Connor!” What a stupid thing to say. Of course he was breathing. He tried to suck in a breath to prove her wrong and found he couldn’t. That’s when the panic set in and a deep sense of deja vu. His hands flew to Doctor Mackie’s wrists and gripped on tight, willing her to fix this. So many thoughts ran through his head. How long had it been since his last breath? What the hell was happening? Why couldn’t he just breathe? 

 

“Just breathe out, c’mon I know you can do it.” Her voice was so soft, he almost missed what she’d said. He hadn’t even thought she was capable of speaking like that. 

 

“Breathe out, just breathe out.” She must’ve been crazy. Why would he breathe out when he needed to breathe in? It didn’t make any sense. So, just get her to shut up, he breathed out. 

 

“Oh thank God… good, now breathe in then out again and keep going.” He looked at her quizzically, but did as he was told and soon as he breathed in, his breath hitched in his throat. A stabbing pain went through his wounds. He must’ve groaned cause the next thing he knew, Mack was asking him where it hurt the most. 

 

“Ugh,” was all he could manage to say as he gripped the wound on his side. 

 

“Here, let me see,” said Mackie as she took Connor’s hands in her own and forcibly moved them away. She took off the bandage and tsked. He looked down at his wound and saw blood. 

 

“You’ve ripped your stitches.” 

 

He could hear Murphy cursing from behind the doctor. 

 

He dropped his head back on the pillow tried his best not to scream in annoyance. What the fuck happened? One minute he was threatening that guy, and the next, he was handcuffed to the bed with his wound wide open. 

 

“Wha’ happened?” he mumbled. 

 

“Fuck face over there decided to throw you off of Goodwin.” The doctor pointed to the guard as she said it. The guard didn’t look to impressed. 

 

“Well what do you expect? He was choking him,” said the guard. 

 

Connor shot the guard a dirty look and said: “I wasn’t choking him, I was reasoning with him.”

 

“So that’s what they’re calling it these days?” 

 

“Fuck off,” snarled Connor. 

 

“Excuse me—,” began the guard.

 

“Alright, that’s enough. You were both stupid, so get over it.” She shot them both looks of annoyance. “Now look, I don’t know what was going on and frankly, I don’t care. But if you ever do something like that again, I’ll have you chained to this bed twenty-four seven. You too Goodwin.” 

 

They both nodded. 

 

“Good,” stated the doctor. “Now, let me take a look at your shoulder.” 

 

Mack unwrapped the bandage from his shoulder and frowned. “You loosened a stitch, but other than that, it’s fine. It’s too late to put in more stitches so we’ll just let it be. Now, as for your abdomen,” she said as she poked around the wound. “The bleeding seems to have stopped, so you’re in the clear. All I need to do is wrap you up again.” 

 

The doctor left the room, slapping the guards arm on the way out. Now Connor could get a good look at Murphy. He too was chained to the bed by his wrist. He didn’t look too happy, and when he caught Connor’s eye he mouthed to him, “are you alright?” He nodded his head. 

 

The doctor walked back in and began wrapping and taping up Connor’s wounds. “I’ll come check on you in a few hours to make sure the bleeding really has stopped. So, you know what that means, no getting up, no moving around. In fact, I think you should stay handcuffed to the bed to keep you from wandering. And just to make sure what happened earlier doesn’t happen again, I will be suggesting to Mr. Johnson over here,” she said as she pointed to the guard, “that you all remained handcuffed so you learn to stay the hell away from each other.”  

 

“Wha’? Doc, what the hell?” exclaimed Murphy. “You can’t do that.” 

 

“Yeah, man, what the hell?” said Goodwin. 

 

“Well, I can and I am, so get over it.” The doctor put her hands on her hips and stared each of them down. 

 

Connor couldn’t believe his ears. Handcuffed to the bed? He was gonna go stir-crazy. And if anything were to happen, he was defenceless. He didn’t like the way the guard kept eyeing his brother and him like they were pieces of meat. 

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be sick, Mr. Goodwin?” 

 

He had a deer-caught-in-the-headlights look for a split second before he started clutching at his stomach again. “Oh man, it hurts bad Doc, you better come take a look.”

 

Mackie rolled her eyes and walked over to Goodwin’s bed and started asking him questions pertaining to his ‘supposed’ injury while poking and prodding him. 

 

Connor’s eyes wandered over to Murphy. His brother was hunched in the way it gets when he’s annoyed, his fists clenched and a pissed look on his face as he glared at Goodwin. As if sensing his searching look, Murphy twitched and looked over at Connor. His brother raised an eyebrow at him, but he just shook his head. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t know what to say to his brother. Should he tell his brother why he was attacking the mysterious man who had entered into their little world here in the hospital wing? Or should he lie and say Goodwin had pissed him off by making crude remarks about them as the Saints? No, he couldn’t wholly lie. Murph would know in a heartbeat which would just raise more questions. He’d have to tell half-truths. Besides, if Murph ever found out that Goodwin was using him to get to Connor, he’d stop it in a hot second by any means possible. 

 

Murphy tilted his head and gave him a searching look. Connor could tell he was trying to decipher what was wrong. Something they were both good at with each other. Maybe it was a twin thing, or maybe it was just because they spent so much time together, but they always had the uncanny knack of knowing when something was up with the other. They also always seemed to know what it was that was bugging the other too, like they could read each other’s minds. Sometimes it freaked Connor out how good they were at it. He felt himself put up a mental barrier, thinking of anything but what made him pounce on Goodwin, hoping it would help the cause. 

 

Unfortunately, it didn’t. Murphy’s face transformed into one of pure annoyance, his eyes squinting and his mouth pursed. Murphy quickly looked away from him, his eyes going to the far wall. 

 

“You’re such a fucker,” said Murphy so quietly he almost missed it. 

 

In that moment, he hated being a twin. 

* * *

 

Murphy didn’t talk to him for the rest of the day. A small part of him wished that he’d never defended his brother. He hated really fighting with him, it didn’t matter what for. But then he’d think of what Goodwin said and realized he needed to make a point to that asshole. No one fucked with his brother. No exception. He needed to make it known right in the beginning or people would take advantage. He just wished Murph could appreciate that. It’s not like he wouldn’t have done the same if their roles had been reversed. In fact, Murph probably would’ve gotten a few good swings in before the guard had a chance to stop him. 

 

“Ya can’t stay mad at me forever ya know.” His brother’s eyes flitted over to his for a split second before he looked away again, crossing his arms. 

 

“Aww, are you two pretty boys fighting? How sad,” mocked Goodwin.

 

“Why don’t you shut the fuck up, Goodwin,” shot back Connor. 

 

Goodwin grimaced at him and said: “that’s not a very nice thing to say MacManus. You better watch that mouth of yours.” 

 

“Or what?” said Connor and Murphy at the same time. 

 

Goodwin’s face lit up. “Oh hoho, that was cute. Real cute. Didn’t know you could talk there. Thought you were one of those retards.” 

 

Connor narrowed his eyes. “Excuse me?” 

 

“You heard me.”

 

“Don’t think that just because I’m handcuffed to this bed I won’t kick the ever loving shit outta ya,” said Connor. 

 

“Ooo, I’m real scared.” 

 

“What’s your problem?” gritted Murphy. 

 

“You two are. Thinking you’re better than us ‘lowly criminals.’ You know, killing us all just makes you one of us. Not some messengers of God. You’re pieces of gum on the bottom of society’s shoe, just like me.”

 

“Fuck you, man.” 

 

Before Goodwin had a chance to retort, the guard loudly cleared his throat. Connor looked over at him and saw him looking at his nails like he hadn’t interrupted them. 

 

He heard Murphy huff. His brother flopped hard against the bed and closed his eyes, so Connor turned his attention to Goodwin. Goodwin was looking at his brother with a cocked head and a mischievous glint in his eye. 

 

It unnerved him but he kept quiet. 

 

He’d figure out Goodwin’s plan soon enough. 

 

Before he had a chance to even glare at the man himself, doctor Mackie walked in once again. 

 

“You better not be asleep Murphy. I’ve got your medication here,” she said as she held up a small paper cup in one hand. Murphy cracked an eye open, then slowly sat up, leaning against the pillow. 

 

Murphy took the paper cup and dry swallowed the pill, then laid back down, turning so his back was to them. 

 

“Well, don’t I feel loved,” she said. “What’s up his ass?” she asked Connor. He just shrugged, not wanting to get into it with her. 

 

“Wow, okay, definitely feeling the love around here.” 

 

He felt bad for about a split second, then he felt the handcuff on his wrist and realized he owed her nothing. 

 

“When will we be getting out of here?” he asked, not wanting to sound too eager. Not that he was. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to be pushed into a community of unpredictable criminals who probably wanted nothing more than to hurt them any chance they got. He was always up for a good fight, but only if he knew the odds were in his favour — even just a little bit.

 

“Hm, probably in two or three days. You were supposed to leave tomorrow but since you’ve ripped some stitches I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. I’ll probably release you two together now, just know you won’t be roomies, that’s for sure. Best get all those brotherly love feels outta they way while you still can.”

 

He heard Murphy shift. It seemed like his brother had the same idea he did. With everything that was going on, they had both forgotten what would happen once they hit the general population. For all they knew they could be in different cell blocks — let alone cells — and never see one another for the rest of their lives. 

 

How was he supposed to get them out if they weren’t even near one another? 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave reviews and kudos! They are much loved and make me update much faster haha

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! :)


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